Nothing is more dangerous than solitude
by Marionette008
Summary: Bucky is captured on the bridge, SHIELD still goes down and now Bucky is learning how to trust Steve and let himself have friends again. Nat has had it with babysitting and Tony is still a little shit. Not as nearly sad as it sounds.


**Nothing is more dangerous than solitude**

**A/N: I swear it's not as sad as it sounds, well for the most part.  
Heavily inspired by Captain America Volume 5, written by the brilliant Ed Brubaker and his associates.  
I quoted the volume in here, I don't own any of this. I manipulated the facts a little.  
Also references to other things. This may be a part of a series so look out for further stories, though most will be designed to stand on their own.  
Read and review.  
Happy birthday Sebastian Stan!  
The title is a quote from ****_The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe._**

* * *

He swaggered off of the metal trash can they call a car, his left arm was glitching. It was scraped up good from the fall off the car. The metal was scolding to the touch and it burned the leather of his right hand glove almost all the way when he tried to adjust it. The target, the mission was right here- there was no stopping now. He needed to get it done and return to base.  
He blew him away but that wasn't enough, he ended up chasing the Black Widow down the road. However, the man returned. They battled- movement so fast anybody else would have been dead. But not the man, the man was stronger than the rest.  
By now the blonde man was panting with his shield up; he was on the brink of running away. Ever since- ever since he saw the soldier's face. Why was that? No, he had no time to think. He had to act; he had to finish the mission.  
Why? Why did he have to finish the mission?  
Because he was ordered to do so, and orders were law.

"Fight me!" The Soldier shouted but the man only dropped his shield.

"I won't fight you, I'm your friend." The man said.

Friend? The Soldier, the Asset, had no friends.  
"The Winter Soldier has no time for friends," He said calmly, his heart beating wildly.

"Bucky you know me!" The man stated.

_Bucky, _that name-he has heard that name before. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that name. He _knew_ that man, Captain America.

A moment of hesitation was all they needed, a man with metal wings dropped in and immobilised the Soldier. The man made a triumphant noise as the Captain approached. He put his shield over his back and crouched down to look at the soldier sadly.  
"We'll make it better Bucky, I swear."  
And the soft features of the blonde man's face were the last thing he saw before the blackness came to reclaim him.

* * *

He half expected the pain to be there when he woke up, the blankness and the bright lights. And of course, the cold- that was always there in one way or another.  
However, the lights were dimmed, there was no pain and he could recall everything within the last few days perfectly.  
He shook the fuzziness from in front of his eyes. As his vision grew more focused he realised that he wasn't in the base he was used to. He was in a room, well it wasn't an actual room but there was a bed and a table with some chairs. The walls looked to be made of thick metal and there were no windows.  
So it was a cell.  
But a nice one at least.  
There was, of course, the one-sided mirror and the reinforced door- which was no doubt guarded heavily.  
He sat up and realized that he had not been bound, there were no straps or chains.  
A sign of weakness, or trust perhaps. The Soldier spun the idea of trust inside his head for a couple of moments before deciding against it. Instincts were what kept him alive; no matter if they were learnt or introduced into his body artificially they were still there.  
Trust was weakness and he knew it, so did the man on the bridge so did every spy or assassin.  
Yet the man on the bridge wouldn't fight him, his instincts must have been telling him to flee or defend himself. But he didn't, he just took every punch and never fought back. He _trusted_ the Soldier not to kill him, and he didn't.  
Why hadn't he killed the man?  
This woke some sort of curiosity in the Asset.

He stood up and stretched his muscles, he was sore all over even though the man didn't fight back. He still put an effort in beating the shit out of him.  
He winced as he remembered how bloodied and bruised the blonde man had been.  
Captain America they call him.  
He felt as though he had heard that particular name, that title.  
He grunted in amusement, in another life he would have made fun of it.  
Even though the name was just a symbol it was ridiculously patriotic.

_A symbol._

He flinched as he remembered a conversation told by a man in a bunker. The man was speaking into a tape recorder.

"_We gave him a purpose, and we made him loyal to no one but us. Once that was accomplished we had simply to train and prepare him for field evaluation. Hopes are high that he will be a successful operative. Because he walks and talks just like them, because he exudes 'America' with every breath. You are my greatest creation, my twisted joke on Americans. A symbol, their precious sidekick twisted inside his own skin to serve the enemy."_

He spun on his heels and punched the nearest wall with his flesh and blood fist. The pain grounded him and he shook his head. He heard the locks on the doors unhinge and creak with the weight of the thick metal. He decided to sit down onto the bed, not because he was nauseous- which he was- but because he wanted to see this thing through. As much as he hated to admit, he needed the answers to his questions.

A short woman with fiery red hair walked in, he remembers her from the bridge- the Widow. She eyed him suspiciously but moved to make room for the medics that started to pile in.  
The Soldier flinched as they swarmed him; he tried hard not to punch every one of them out. He was acting against his instincts and it was frustrating.

"How are you feeling today?" One of them asked.

The Asset grunted a noncommittal response.  
The man nodded and proceeded to poke around his chest and his shoulder.  
The Soldier tensed up as the man poked the place where his metal arm meets what's left of his shoulder.  
To the Soldier's surprise, the man nodded to himself and backed off.  
The medics are gone and only the red haired woman is left.  
His brain supplies that he could escape, he could take her out and run for it. But he doesn't want to; he's tired of running and not knowing.  
She's watching him curiously.

"You don't remember, do you?" She asked.

He sighed, "I don't." His voice is hoarse from him being quiet for long. Not that he talked much usually; just now he had talked even less.

Her face hardened at his admission and she looked at him sadly, "We'll help you remember James."

"James? I thought I was Bucky?" He asked as he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

"You're both, James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes." A voice, definitely not the woman's, said.  
It's the man from the bridge.

"Ah you," He responded, still not looking at the Captain.

"Yeah, me." The man retorted, the Soldier could hear fondness in his voice. It made him uneasy, like the man knew something he doesn't. Which he probably does.

"Well that's not me; I'm neither James nor Bucky." He motioned vaguely with his hand.

"Maybe not now, but you were." The fondness is gone from his tone and the soldier feels a little pang of guilt.

"Sorry to disappoint, pal." He finally looks at the blonde man. He's met with sad blue eyes and a mouth pulled down into a frown.

The man shook his head and scolded his features; he leaves the room without saying another word.

The Widow let out an exasperated huff, "You two are impossible. He's been sulking the whole week you were here, and now he's going to be whining all the way to his apartment. And to who? To me, because everyone else has an excuse. But not me! I have to play babysitter, stupid SHIELD and stupid 90 year old men-" She rambled as she left the cell, her voice fading away.

He tossed and turned after they left him to his thoughts.  
So a week has passed since he had arrived here.  
He must have been out of it the whole time.  
_James Buchanan Barnes.  
_The name felt like it should have rang a bell, but it didn't. The information, the memory, is locked away deep inside- inside the cold metal box that has become of his heart.  
He really should care that he is locked in here, but there is warmth and a bed and this is the best he has been treated since forever.  
So he decided to say, just for a moment or two.  
He laid his head on the soft pillow; he'll close his eyes for a minute- just a few minutes.  
Then it's dark and he's asleep.

* * *

There was food on the table when he woke up.  
It made him feel vulnerable since they were able to enter and leave without him noticing but, it is an agency of spies after all.  
He eyed the door and the mirror before he got up to stretch. He was still not bound, nor was he hurt. All the little cuts and bruises have healed and he felt more rested than ever.  
He squinted at the mirror, as though if he looked hard enough he'd see someone at the other side.  
He doesn't have to see though, to know that the Captain is there.

The Soldier sat down at the table, his back facing the wall- never exposed.  
He was faced with a full plate of stake, mashed potatoes and a bowl filled with salad that included broccoli and some water in a bottle.  
He grunted and pushed aside the broccoli, he never liked broccoli.  
_He never liked broccoli.  
_He paused, he never did like broccoli. Does that count as a memory?  
Well, if not- he certainly doesn't have to eat it now and that's freedom of choice, which he apparently now had.  
He shakes the little feeling of hope he gets and continues to push the broccoli away.

After he finished the food, which was freaking delicious, he began to feel something.  
It was boredom.  
He looked around the cell for something to do, anything- but no luck.  
He was stuck so he ended up doing sit-ups, push-ups and other various exercises.

"You never liked broccoli," There was a man in his cell, and he hadn't even notice. How could he not have noticed?

The Asset stood up abruptly, becomes aware of everything around him and prepares for battle.  
The man in the room was the blonde man, he had his arms raised in a peaceful manner and the soldier relaxed.  
He glared at the Captain.

"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you." The Captain rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.

"Yeah, well, won't happen again. I promise you." The Soldier said threateningly.

The man gave him a sad look but went to take the plate; he took it outside where he handed it to some nameless agent and returned.  
He sat at the table and looked at the Soldier as expecting some answers or a prize.

The Asset sat on the bed, still squinting at the man, "What?"

The man smiled, "Nothing, just thought you might enjoy some company."

The Soldier grunted, "I'd enjoy a book, if you had one."

"That can be arranged," The man said.

Several minutes passed in silence and the soldier let out an agitated huff, "Okay, this is not going to happen. I appreciate the effort, but I don't know you buddy. I don't know your mug or your name. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear but you're a big guy- you can handle the truth." He finished and watched the man's face stay passive.

"My name's Steven Grant Rogers and I was your best friend," The man, Steve_, _said with a nostalgic quirk of his lips. "Emphasis on _was_ since you know; now you don't remember."

"Nice story, 's that all?" The Soldier asked.

"I'd ask you to eat your broccoli but I guess you don't need the protein now," he shrugged and left. Before the door closed he waved and the Soldier rolled his eyes.

_Steven Grant Rogers.  
_The man on the bridge gets a name at last.

His dinner is brought by someone else.

* * *

Next morning there is a book with his food.  
_The Nanny Diaries _by _Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus _

"Goddamn it Steve," He muttered as he dug into his food.

So being left with no choice he started to read the chick lit novel.  
He opened up the book reluctantly and frowned, first person narrator- lovely.  
The first few pages flew by quickly thanks to the humour laced in between all the sap.  
He was quickly immersed in the book and when someone came by to pick up his plate and leave some more water, he only mumbled incoherently at them.

When in the evening Steve came by with his dinner he had already finished with the book.  
The Soldier glared at Steve as he put the plate down and picked up a French fry off of it.

"So, how'd you like the book?" Steve asked.

"This is not what I had in mind." He grumbled, slowly moving towards the table with a tasty looking hamburger on it.

"Hey, you never said what kind of book." Steve defended.

"Fine, that's true." He started to eat the fries hesitantly; this was the closest he'd been to Steve since the bridge. Though, he still didn't remember him- he was starting to trust him.

"So what'd you think of it?" Steve pushed the conversation further.

"I find it disgraceful that you even read it." He said with a smirk and Steve chuckled.

"Nat left it at my place one time and I was kind of curious." Steve admitted.

"Mr and Mrs X were annoying, the whole time I kept thinking she should have just taken them out. And the kid was a nuisance." The soldier said nonchalantly.

Steve choked on a fry he was eating and looked at him, blue eyes wide and scared.

The Soldier cracked a smile.

"Don't say stuff like that!" Steve huffed.

"You should have seen your face, it was worth it." He took a bite out of his hamburger.  
"Though, I don't see why she kept the Harvard Hottie's identity a secret. Who was he anyway?"

Steve hummed, "Guess you'll have to read the next one to find out."

The Asset groaned, "There is more? Why would anyone want to read that?!"

"Well you read it, didn't you?" Steve smirked.

"I had no choice!" He gestured agitatedly.

"Next time, be specific." Steve scolded and stood up; he went to the door and got something which he set onto the table. The Soldier watched him move around.  
Steve picked up the book and turned to face him.

"She was writing it for a job resume; she couldn't say or write any names."

The Soldier nodded his gratitude and Steve left the cell.  
He remembered the book conversation and shouted after Steve, "Some classics would be nice."  
Steve gave him a thumbs up and the heavy door closed.

As sad as it was, he could get used to this. The frequent food and water, the warm bed- even Steve's company.  
He looked to the table and chuckled quietly; a pudding cup stood solemnly besides his tray.

* * *

The next day he woke up as Steve was entering the cell; he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

"Did you even go home?" He tried to ask but his voice was muffled by the pillow.

Steve startled, "Oh sorry, didn't mean to wake you. What was that?"

"I said, Steve," He started in his sweetest voice. "Did you stay here all night cause of lil' ol' me?" He grinned at Steve's flustered expression. He didn't know why but it felt natural to tease Steve, any way possible. Maybe he really did know the guy.

"I, um- no, I didn't go home if that's what you're asking." Steve set down the food and the water.

"You look like it too," He said simply.

Steve frowned but ignored it, "Brought you another book."  
He held up the hard covered book that looked ancient.

"Where'd you dig that up, didn't know SHIELD had an excavation site nearby." He held a palm out for Steve to hand him the book.

"It is pretty old," Steve smiled, "But it is a classic as you requested."

"_The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe. _ I've heard of it, never got around to reading it. Thanks," He turned the book over in his hands, it smelled stale and used.  
"Smells funky," The Soldier said.

"Don't be a princess, Buck." Steve responded and headed for the door, "If you need anything someone is right outside the door. Knock and they'll open."

"By someone, do you mean you?" He asked smugly.

Steve grumbled something under his breath and left.

He took pride in making Captain America blush and squirm.  
Maybe he was this 'Bucky', maybe he should listen to them for once.  
Maybe they're worth listening to.

* * *

Blood, darkness and pain.  
He dreams of torture, of gut wrenching agony he feels every time he is brought back to the base. The men in the coats are all snickering and arguing over who gets to electrocute him next. Because he disobeyed, he refused to follow the rules.  
The orders were simple enough, go kill, clean up and meet at the place that was set for his extraction.  
He didn't obey, he murdered the man, made it look like an accident but he failed to appear at the extraction point.  
He had been chased down by the U.S. agents as well as the Russians.  
He was caught in New York and taken back to base; it was different than the HYDRA facilities he barely remembers. It was barer and colder. It was made for the purpose of a prison; one might even go as far to call it a dungeon.  
They had fun with him, they enjoyed the torture too much- but he would never give them the satisfaction of hearing his agony or seeing him cry.  
Never had he shed a tear, never had he voiced his pain.  
But in the end, it didn't even matter if they tortured him. His memories were erased and he would only be left with new scars and bruises and a dull ache in his head.

He woke up with a start. He looked around, he was out of it. His head was spinning and he felt bile rise up in his throat.  
The door slammed open and a man in a lab coat walked in.  
He was up and out the door before they could react.  
He fought his way out of the building which was just a house that happened to have a holding cell in its basement.

There was a forest surrounding the house, he looked around and spotted a hiking trail leading up the mountain.  
It was the only path he saw and he needed to get away from the people as soon as possible. There was sweat running down his back, the sweatpants caught in all kinds of sticks and stones. His feet were bare and muddy; he didn't feel the cuts on them or the bruises that were already fading.

His head was spinning as he reached the top of the hill, which was unfortunately a cliff.  
He was cornered again.  
He turned to head back but Steve was standing behind him, blocking his escape.  
His shield was forgotten back at the house, he was in civilian clothes and breathing heavily.

The Soldier looked at him, his eyes wild- he was ready for a fight.

"Bucky, I'm not going to fight you." Steve said calmly.  
The Soldier backed up, his fists still raised.  
He was stripped of all weapons but his left hand could still pack a punch.  
"We're not going to hurt you; you had a bad dream Buck. You're safe now, they can't get to you." Steve reassured him.

"No, they're coming. I have to get back to base; I have to face the consequences.  
Moram da završim misiju, moram da se vratim. Ne smem da ih izneverim." The Soldier rambled. The words were flowing out of his mouth, Steve made a face.

"Buck, I don't understand. What are you saying?" Steve inched closer to the Soldier, who was on the ledge.

"Ne prilazi! Oni dolaze po mene!" The Soldier screamed and launched himself at Steve.

Steve wrestled the Soldier's arms and held them on his back. The Soldier head butted him and Steve let go of his wrists. The Asset pushed him back with a powerful shove of his metal arm and Steve stumbled.  
His foot caught on a rock and he goes over.  
The Soldier watched as Steve fell, the scene so familiar yet different somehow. The blue eyes though, they were watching him with the same intensity as the last time.  
_The last time._  
A scene from a train, somewhere in Germany flashed through his mind.  
Steve is there, and he is on the train. But the Asset is hanging off of a rail- but, it's not really him. It's a man long dead, with short brown hair and lively blue eyes full of hope.  
His hand slips and he falls off of the train.  
'_Bucky!' _Steve shouted after him.

The sound of the splashing water brings him back.  
"Steve!" He shouted and jumped after him into the water.

His hand caught Steve's just as he was about to hit bottom, he dragged him out of the water.  
"Bucky" Steve gasped and spat out water, yes, that was and is his name.

"Oh god Steve," He knelt down next to the spluttering man and patted his back to get the water out. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ran." He choked on his own words and feelings. And because he still didn't remember everything, he remembered fragments.  
He remembered Steve before the war- but just his face, but he also remembered some of the missions he was sent on- again bits and pieces. The horrible things he's done and the crimes he's committed stayed forgotten, he can't decide if it's good or bad.  
He held on to Steve and mumbled apologies and silent prayers.  
The SHIELD agents arrived to take them back.

* * *

The people inside the house were mostly injured, and they looked upon him with hate. And why shouldn't they, they've been good to him and he responded badly.  
He made his own bed, now he had to sleep in it.

The Widow was limping but she smiled a knowing smile.  
"You okay?" She walked past him and straight to Steve.

Steve responded to her by nodding his head and coughing weakly. He wasn't injured, just a little shocked.  
"You?" He asked the Widow.

"I'm fine, earned a cracked rib for my troubles." She glared at Bucky over her shoulder.

Bucky, which he now realizes he is, looked away in shame. "Sorry," He mumbled.  
He was soaking wet and dripping all over the carpet.

"You two wet dogs get to the bathroom and get into some new clothes immediately; you're making my vacation home all muddy." A man walked into the room, he was flailing his hands and motioning to Steve and Bucky.

"We're fine, thanks for asking. Glad to see you're doing dandy." Steve glared at him.

The man took off his sunglasses and squinted at Steve, "When did you get all snappy. The Prodigal Son must be a bad influence on you." The sunglasses-inside-because-I'm-cool man turned to look at him.

"Ah, this must be the other geriatric that has been occupying my basement." He said to Bucky. "My name is Tony Stark, pleasure to meet you Sergeant Barnes, or Winter Soldier- whatever you prefer." He held out a hand.

Bucky looked at the hand disapprovingly and didn't shake it, "Bucky will be fine, if you must."

Tony retrieved his hand, "Natasha I see you're still as deadly as ever but you couldn't take down the old man." He smirked, he thought he was so clever and Bucky just wanted to punch him in the face.

"Hate to break it to you Tony, but it's not a basement anymore." The Widow, Natasha, said- ignoring his comment about her skills.

Tony's face fell, "What did you do to my house?" He rushed past the guards, which were giving Steve and Bucky towels, and headed for the basement.

"What did you do!?" A wail could be heard throughout the house and Steve just laughed.

"What needed to be done!" Natasha yelled at him.

Now that he's gotten a proper look, the house was beautiful. They were standing in the living room that was furnished nicely and decorated with sophisticated details. There were paintings, rugs and even framed deer antlers on the walls. There were huge windows that have been covered with heavy drapes so the room was pretty dark. The only light was the one coming from the door and the small chandelier on the ceiling.  
He turned back to see Steve watching him with a fond expression.  
Bucky looked away, he couldn't meet his eyes after what he had done.

Steve sighed loudly, "Come on, let's get some dry clothes." He pointed to the SHIELD agent holding two stacks of clothes and towels.

Bucky nodded and followed after Steve.

* * *

Once they were all dried up and out of the muddy clothes, they sat down in the cell again.

"I'm sorry, but they insisted I bring you back here." Steve said from where he was, next to Bucky on the bed.

"It's not your fault Steve, I deserve it." He dropped his head into his hands, his long hair falling over his eyes.

Steve put a comforting hand on his back and moved it in soothing circles. It was the first time he openly touched him and Bucky managed not to flinch away from the source of heath.

"Well isn't that sweet, you're wearing matching outfits." Stark walked into the room, loud and obnoxious as always.

Bucky straightened up and Steve removed his hand. He looked down at himself then at Bucky. They were, in fact, wearing the same things. A standard issue SHIELD shirt and black sweats.

Steve blushed at the realization and glared at Tony. "What do you want?"

"Oh seeing as I'm the only one with a brain here, I decided to go over the footage of his little rampage. Seems as though something triggered it, it was raw fury and rage fuelling him. It didn't look like he was in control over his own body, it was pure instinct." Tony looked at his fingernails while he was saying it, probably expecting praise.

"Is that true Buck?" Steve asked gently.

Bucky recalls waking up in cold sweat and he recalls the dream, although he would rather forget it altogether.  
Bucky nodded, "I dreamt about HYDRA and the Red Room and how they used to torture me. After one mission particularly, I guess it was more of a memory than a dream." He shrugged like it's nothing but his shoulders were starting to shake.  
"Then the men in the lab coats entered the room and I freaked out." He gulped and blinked away the tears threatening to spill.

"You're welcome Capcicle." Tony said and left the room.

Steve shook his head sadly and leaned into Bucky's side, he looked like he wants to say something- or do something really awkward for the both of them. But before he could say anything Tony reappeared in the room.

"I forgot to ask, what do you remember?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by Steve almost snuggling next to Bucky.

Bucky stood up and Steve almost fell over. He shot him an apologetic shrug before he answered. "I don't know, I remember my last moments as Bucky Barnes and my First as the Winter Soldier. I remember something from before the war, and almost nothing after it ended. I don't know how I was alive all this time but I remember being cold a lot." He hugged himself and circled around the room. "It was cold before I went on a mission and it was cold after the mission. Then it was also dark. I remember parts of weapons training. They would, I guess, wake me up- sort to speak, to teach me how to operate new weapons and computers." He stopped his subconscious pacing and sat at the table.

"I'm guessing cryogenic freezing. We did find some capsules in the HYDRA base we hit last month." Steve said and Stark nodded.

"Could be, they were smart bastards. I should take a look at that arm, though." Stark slithered closer to him holding a screwdriver.

Bucky cradled his left arm closer, "I'd rather you not. Please." He mumbled the last part.

Stark seemed taken aback by the silent plead. "Wow Rogers, when I came here I expected a vicious attack dog not a house trained pussycat." He grinned and Steve groaned.

Bucky growled at Stark and looked away; he was going to punch him once. Maybe not now, but soon.  
Soon.

"Soon, what?" Stark asked.

"I'm hoping you'll leave soon." Bucky answered, with a persuasive glare.

"Ouch, okay I can tell when I'm not wanted." Tony raised his hands in surrender.

"Obviously not," Steve grumbled causing Bucky to smirk and Tony to pout.

"Fine, if you're going to team up against me, I'm going to leave before one of you hurts me or my feelings." He put on his sunglasses and walked away like there's music playing in the background, and maybe an explosion or two.

Once he was out of sight and out of mind, thankfully, Steve turned his attention back to Bucky. "You sure you're okay?" He asked.

Bucky nodded shakily, "Yeah, a little hungry though." He smiled, or at least tried to.

Steve stood up and walked over to him, offering a hand.

Bucky looked at it with a raised eyebrow but took it. As soon as he did, he was hauled up into a hug. It was like being squished against a wall and it was kind of comforting. He let himself relax for a moment.  
"Good, to have you back." Steve whispered.

Bucky pulled back and looked him dead in the eye, "I'm not sure how much of me you got back Steve; I still did all the horrible things when I was the Winter Soldier. And the truth is, Bucky Barnes probably died as soon as the Winter Soldier was born. There is no going back. And now I stand here, a third person- a mix between the two deceased personalities that occupied this body. I know it sounds harsh but that's the truth." He said firmly, he was holding on to Steve's shoulders and he could see the tears gathered in Steve's eyes.

Steve rubbed an eye with the back of his hand and inhaled deeply, "If that's all I can have, then I'll take it. We'll start fresh Buck, build our friendship again. Step by step, each day. Till the end of the line, buddy."

Bucky smiled, he was expecting Steve to back off, to run away but he should have known better. Steve was here when he woke up, he almost died for the Winter Soldier and this man that he now is. Steve wasn't going anywhere.  
"Till the end of the line." He confirmed, because he doesn't remember, but he will do his darn best to make new and better memories.  
Live every day like it's your last and follow that punk till the ends of Earth, a voice echoed through his head and he grinned.

* * *

**On that note, the language up there is Serbian, it is similar to Russian but not really. It basically means the same things he was saying in English. I put it in there because I'm a bastard and I wanted some foreign language in there but I don't know Russian.**  
**Also google translator sucks. **  
**Leave a review if you liked it :))  
**

**Decided I don't like the tense in which it was written so I just re-wrote it.**


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